


nightmare

by lovelylogans



Series: sanders sides platonic week [4]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Comfort, Disney, Gen, Nightmare, Snuggling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2020-12-17 18:15:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21058814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelylogans/pseuds/lovelylogans
Summary: It was no secret that none of them had a reliable sleep schedule.Virgil notoriously kept his own hours, with the reason of mostly “I will sleep when I am able to sleep.” Logan tried the hardest to stick to a schedule, but even Logan could be stuck in thought loops and fail to relax enough to fall asleep at his appointed time. Patton could and would fall asleep anywhere, slumbering with all the force of a wrecking ball. Virgil had grown into the habit of watching where he stepped when he went for midnight snacks, because he had nearly accidentally stomped on Patton a number of times, after Patton would fall asleep watching something on TV. Roman, of course, lauded the importance ofbeauty rest,but his realm functioned in all kinds of weird hours, so it was really a gamble at any given moment if Roman was asleep or not.





	nightmare

It was no secret that none of them had a reliable sleep schedule.

Virgil notoriously kept his own hours, with the reason of mostly “I will sleep when I am able to sleep.” Logan tried the hardest to stick to a schedule, but even Logan could be stuck in thought loops and fail to relax enough to fall asleep at his appointed time. Patton could and would fall asleep anywhere, slumbering with all the force of a wrecking ball. Virgil had grown into the habit of watching where he stepped when he went for midnight snacks, because he had nearly accidentally stomped on Patton a number of times, after Patton would fall asleep watching something on TV. Roman, of course, lauded the importance of _beauty rest,_ but his realm functioned in all kinds of weird hours, so it was really a gamble at any given moment if Roman was asleep or not.

Virgil walked into the living room, watching carefully for any stray dads that could get underfoot, when he heard a sharp intake of breath. 

His eyes snapped up from the empty ground to scan the rest of the room, and it didn’t take very long for him to detect the noise.

It looked as if Roman had only paused to take off his armor and scabbard before dropping onto the couch to sleep, detritus of dented, scratched metal surrounding the couch, his sword leaning haphazardly against the wall. Virgil froze, thinking he’d woken Roman, but Roman didn’t do anything else, and his eyes were still shut, so Virgil figured that he hadn’t done anything. He continued to the kitchen, stepping lightly.

He emerged with snacks stuffed in his hoodie and a plastic bottle of water in his hands, when he heard a strangled gasp, and he frowned, turning to look at Roman.

Someone (probably Patton) had thrown a blanket on top of him, and Roman’s face was still turned mostly away from Virgil; the tendons in his neck were standing out, and Virgil hesitated, taking a few steps closer.

Roman’s profile was more clear now; Virgil could see a few beads of sweat clinging to his face, and his skin was looking almost as pale as Virgil’s. His brow was creased, and his face shuddering in dismay.

It finally clicked. _Nightmare._

Virgil hesitated, unsure of what to do—leave Roman alone? Make some kind of loud noise? Reach over and shake him?—but then Roman _twisted,_ his face turning more fully to Virgil’s, another gasp strangling itself out of his mouth, and Virgil’s mind was made up.

“Roman,” he said, and then, louder, “_Roman.”_

Nothing. Virgil hesitated, and said, again, “Roman, wake up—”

A noise that was distressingly close to a whimper.

“Roman, get up, _now,_ we need you—_Thomas_ needs you—Roman, get UP!” He practically yelled, and Roman’s eyes flew open with a strangled gasp, jerking his way to sitting upright.

Virgil hovered uncertainly as Roman gulped for air, wiping his face off on the blanket. Virgil floundered for words. God, he was so _bad_ at this.

“Are you, um,” Virgil began, and faltered. “Do you... do you want me to get Patton? Or?”

“Water,” Roman croaked, and Virgil scrambled to hand him the water bottle he’d taken from the kitchen, careful not to touch him, just in case. Roman downed about half of it, and came up sucking in air.

“Are, um. You okay?” Virgil said, lamely, and probably deserved the weak glare Roman shot at him. He rephrased, 

“Do you need anything?”

Roman shuddered, and lifted a shoulder up, down, a helpless kind of gesture.

Virgil hesitated, and said, “Do you need me to leave you alone?”

“_No,” _Roman blurted out, and immediately looked mortified by how quickly it had come out.

“Okay,” Virgil said, shuffling on his feet. “Is it, um. Is it okay if I sit on the couch next to you?”

Roman nodded, and Virgil perched carefully on the neighboring cushion, and figured his best bet was to emulate Patton in this situation. He softened his voice.

“Do you... do you need a hug?” Virgil said, and tried his hardest not to cringe. Roman, however, leaned immediate and heavy into Virgil’s side, and Virgil withdrew enough to draw an arm over Roman’s shoulders, tugging him in, and roughly rubbing at whatever muscle his hand was touching.

“Okay,” Virgil said carefully. “You’re, um, you’re okay, Princey. Dream’s over. You’re awake.” He squeezed, the way Patton did, and shook him a little, also the way Patton did. “Do you... wanna... talk? God, I’m sorry, I’m shit at this,” Virgil grumbled.

“You’re good,” Roman croaked out. “Can’t, um. Can’t remember it much anyways.”

Virgil paused, and said, “Are you lying to me or can you actually not remember? Because if you don’t wanna talk, that’s okay. But don’t... lie to me.”

He could hear Roman swallow, and Roman said, “Don’t wanna talk.”

“Okay,” Virgil said, quietly grateful, because if he could barely grasp his own psychological fuckenings how was he supposed to handle Roman’s? “Let me know if that changes. If it doesn’t, that’s fine.”

Roman nodded, leaned heavier into Virgil’s side, and after a few seconds of silence that stretched too uncomfortably, Virgil checked, “You sure you don’t need anything else? I can get Patton or Logan, if you want.”

“You’re _good,_ Judge Moody,” Roman said, and then, quieter, “I don’t wanna be a—”

“Do not finish that sentence,” Virgil said. “Self-deprecation is _my _thing, Princey. If I went upstairs and knocked on either of their doors right now, and if I said to Logan ‘Roman needs you to talk astronomy to him until his ears fall off’ his only complaint would be my use of hyperbole. If I went to get Patton he would bring a legion of stuffed animals. If I woke both of them up and said ‘Roman needs us all to sit where he can see us and watch Cinderella together,’ they would do it. Because we, um. We all care, okay?”

A pause, and then a very soft, “You’re one to talk.”

“Yeah, and I just told you off for stealing my things, so,” Virgil said, and Roman let out a weak chuckle. 

“Seriously, though, do you need anything, anyone else?”

Roman paused, and said, “Could we watch Cinderella? Just the two of us. And, um. Snuggle maybe.”

Virgil’s shoulders relaxed. “Yeah, okay, I can do that,” he said, and glanced around for the remote.

Five minutes later, Roman and Virgil were slumped into each other, sharing a blanket on the couch, Cinderella starting, and Roman still felt a little clammy to the touch, but he started smiling when the princess showed up on the screen, so Virgil figured he’d be just fine.


End file.
